Kellen
Every part of me aches as I limp down the hallway with Tara at my elbow. Every step makes my ribs burn and I have about a dozen different bruises scattered down my body. My ears are still ringing from the nightmare cacophony of gunshots that tore my club to pieces.
I keep seeing those guys kick down the door. Ski masks, guns blazing. My men fought back the best they could, but there was no way we all could’ve gotten out alive, not with an ambush like that. Still, I’m proud of the way my crew fought off the attack, and we lived to take revenge.
“Are you sure about this?” Tara asks, gripping my arm tightly.
“Finn, Rory, and Angus are nearby, plus I’ve been stacking the staff with my own loyal people. I even snuck a few cleaning people onto this wing, just in case. We’re as safe in the mansion as we’re ever going to be.”
She nods to herself but slows her pace. “I know that, it’s only, I feel like this is the definition of poking the bear.”
I turn and face her. “Hugh tried to kill me last night.”
“Right, I know, but—”
“There’s no but.” I tighten my jaw and grip her shoulders. She bites her lip and breathes fast, and fuck, if I weren’t so goddamn beat up right now, I’d kiss her deep and take her body right here in this hallway. She looks so sexy when she’s terrified.
Except I have work to do and I can’t let her distract me. Not too much anyway.
“I’m just worried, is all.” She looks down at the floor, and her worry floods my heart with something soft and warm, a feeling I’m not familiar with.
“I know you are, but I can’t let this go unanswered. Hugh decided to escalate things when he tried to take me out, and I can’t let him get away with it and still maintain the respect of my men.”
“You don’t have to talk to his dad about it though. It just feels wrong.”
I chuckle and start walking again. She hurries to keep pace. “Uncle Cormac isn’t some sweet old man. I know he’s a little eccentric and he and Aunt Irene don’t leave their wing much, but Cormac’s a wily old fox and he’s still very much a part of the Hayle family. He can pretend like he retired, but men in our line of work don’t ever leave the business, not with all the secrets we know. You either die or you keep on going. That means he knows what’s going on, and we shouldn’t feel bad about confronting him on it.”
She doesn’t argue as we push through a set of French doors that lead into another hallway. This one is slightly different—the carpeting is lighter and the paintings on the walls are of flowers and trees in expressionist bright colors. There’s patterned wallpaper and more statues placed in every corner, but most of those are abstract shapes made from glass with glittering stones studded all over them. It looks like a house from a ‘70s movie complete with a futuristic aesthetic.
Cormac and his wife, Irene, moved into the mansion years ago, back when I was a little kid. They took over a big chunk of the house and my father more or less left them alone. Cormac was the number two in the family for a long time, but he stepped back around the time that Cait died, just as Hugh was beginning his ascendency. I always suspected that Cormac had a hand in his son’s rise, but it was never something we talked about openly.
I stop outside of their main sitting room and knock. I wait a few seconds for a young staff member to answer the door and usher me and Tara over to some couches. “Would you like anything to drink?” the young man asks. He’s handsome in a boyish way and probably in his teens. “Tea, water, soda?”
“No, thank you,” I say and Tara shakes her head. The young man nods, says to wait, and leaves the room.
“This is weird,” Tara says, looking around. The space is all white: white walls, couch, rug, art. Everything is white, or a very close shade to white, and I almost wish I could take off my shoes to keep from getting the fucking carpet dirty. I hate this room and Cormac knows it, which is why the ancient, mummified shit put us in here. I feel like we’re sitting inside of a cloud or like we’re in a hospital surgical suite. It’s all too fucking clean.
“Irene’s got a strange sense of decoration.”
“Why do your aunt and uncle live with you guys? I mean, I know you’re all rich, so why live here, and why did your dad let it happen?”
“He and Cormac had a complicated relationship. I think they wanted the center of the family to remain in one place, and after a while, they just got used to sharing a house. Although it’s more like we’re staying in two separate places. Cormac hires his own staff, his own cleaners and cooks, and runs his own kitchen and household, which is why it was so hard to get my people in here. We basically just share walls.”
The door opens again and Cormac strides into the room. He’s an older man, taller and thinner than my father, like a stretched-out version of the former chief. I stand and shake my uncle’s hand, and his white hair is frizzy and unkempt, his clothing old and patched, but his light blue eyes are as sharp as ever.
I know his game. He puts on this frazzled absent professor act to make people underestimate him, but he’s constantly working on new schemes in that whirring brain of his, hoping to force his enemies to make some misstep or error in judgment that he can exploit for his gain.
“Nice of you to visit me, nephew,” Cormac says, sitting with a grunt. “It’s been too long.”
“I kept planning on stopping over but I’ve been busy.” I gesture at Tara. “This is my wife. I think you know her.”
“The gardener?” Cormac frowns and squints at her. “That’s right, it is the gardener. You were Cait’s friend, the poor dead girl, right? I’ve seen you around digging in the dirt.”
“That’s right. It’s nice to see you, Mr. Hayle.” Tara sits up rod-straight and smiles at the old man like she’s trying her best to be respectful, but I notice her fingers digging into her knees and she’s definitely holding herself back from strangling the bastard. If she went for it, I might not stop her. It’d be interesting to see it play out at least.
“What can I do for you two?” Cormac asks, sitting back and looking at his nails. They’re trimmed short and exceedingly neat. “As you’re aware, Kellen, I’m not exactly part of the family business much these days.”
“Ah, well, Cormac, that’s what I wanted to talk about.” I lean toward him, doing my best to feign calm. “You must’ve heard that your son made a play for my life last night.”